


Little Wolf

by Letthemhateme



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Collars, Fenris drabbles, I might turn this into a collection of short drabbles about the broody elf, M/M, Pointless Drabble, Slavery, captain broody, he stole my heart, how can someone so angry be so cute, never let me tag things, thankfully not in his usual way, that would suck, there's no plot or anything behind this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-31
Updated: 2015-08-11
Packaged: 2018-04-12 06:17:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4468433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Letthemhateme/pseuds/Letthemhateme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short drabbles of the skinny drunk elf</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Little Wolf

Sprawled on the bed, waiting. The collar fit snugly around his neck, the leash attached trailing down into the blankets. His master would be here soon. That's why he was waiting so patiently, like the well trained dog that he was. He was bare, but he didn't seem to mind. He'd been bare when the silver markings had been branded onto his skin, and it hadn't bothered him then. After all, it was only his master who saw him like this.

  
He was muscled and lean, the lyrium tattoos wrapping around his body like the veins of a leaf. Bolts of pain shot through him wherever his bare flesh touched the bed; even the light sheet draped over his lower half caused pure, brilliant pain to lace through his tattoos. Each time he felt the pain, it took every ounce of self control he possessed to keep himself from letting out a sound.

  
His master liked hearing the pained noises - he delighted in dragging his neatly cut nails over the tattoos or even tracing them with the tip of the silver letter opener he kept on his desk. And of course, if it pleased his master, than it pleased the elf too.

  
The man was taking his time. It was a familiar ritual, almost like a game between them. His master would make him wait, and it would end in one or two results. He would either stay on the bed and continue to wait, straining at the leash like a dog excited to see his master's return, or he would free himself and hunt down his master, only to be punished for his disobedience.

  
The punishments were rarely severe, since his master enjoyed it and didn't want to damage his little wolf. His tattoos made him resistant to magic, so on occasion his master would send electricity thrumming through his body, causing him to twitch and spasm until the pain faded. He hated the pain, but he would bear it without complaint, as long as his master enjoyed it.

  
He'd already been waiting for the better part of an hour, and he was growing restless. He didn't want to wait any longer. Concentrating on the power that lay in his tattoos, he rose his hand and reached through the metal bar that the end of the leash was attached to, using the ability to free the leash.  
Now freed from the bed, the slave got to his feet and stretched, letting the sheet fall, discarded. His bare feet padded softly against the polished floors as he left the room, beginning the hunt for his master.


	2. Don't Go Breaking My Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris is no slave, but his master won't let him leave peacefully.

The elf was waiting in the alley, sword in hand. His tattoos were gleaming ever so faintly in the moonlight as he readied himself, his eyes darting around to find whatever was hunting him. It was probably mercenaries or his master's lackeys, come to retrieve him. He wouldn't go. He refused. He was no slave. His hands tightened on the hilt of his sword for a moment before loosening, hearing footsteps approaching the alleyway.

Five men, well built, judging from the sound of their footsteps. Their low voices reached him as they came closer; they were talking softly amongst themselves as they walked, unaware of the danger lurking in the shadows. Once they passed the mouth of the entrance, he raised the sword and kicked off the ground, leaping towards them. Before any of the men could turn around, the sword took the tallest man's head from his shoulders in one clean blow.

He landed, the fight beginning. The hiss of metal sounded as weapons were drawn and raised defensively, but that didn't deter him. His tattoos blazed as he leapt forward again, his sword brushing aside their weapons as if they were blades of grass in his way, his hand plunging into one man's chest. A sickening, wet noise and his hand retreated, blood and gore staining his gauntlet. He growled, not even bothering to watch the man crumple to the ground, lifeless.

His sword and gauntlet were dripping blood by the time the last man fell, the ground now crimson. "Na via lerno victoria..." he murmured, wiping his blade on a dead man's tunic before sheathing it and crouching down to rifle through their pockets for anything worth taking. As he pocketed a coinpurse, footsteps began to sound once more. His ears twitched. Those weren't the footsteps of a fighter - perhaps someone young, someone foolish enough to wander the streets at night. He cursed and leaped to his feet once more, darting back down the alleyway.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm finally getting back into writing, now that I have some free time! So I'll turn this into a series of drabbles about everyone's favoritest broody elf, Fenris! I don't know how often I'll update this, but I shall try to make it happen often!


End file.
